


Live a little and listen

by Builder



Series: Powers/No Powers Choose-Your-Own-Adventure [26]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Amputee Bucky Barnes, BAMF Laura Barton, F/M, Fever, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sickfic, Snow Day, Vomiting, War Veteran Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 08:00:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16909191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Builder/pseuds/Builder
Summary: He misses Steve.  Sure, illness has a way of throwing off emotions that makes vulnerability somehow permissible, but Bucky can’t help but feel weak.  They’ve only been apart one day, and now he’s sick and needy, reduced to a shivering mess in Clint and Laura’s bed.  He’s overstepped his bounds, even if it’s by no choice of his own.





	Live a little and listen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Royal_Ermine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Royal_Ermine/gifts).



> Find me on Tumblr @builder051

It’s a coincidence that Steve and Clint are both scheduled to be out of town when the schools close for winter break, but Laura treats it like it’s all part of the plan.  

“Come stay with us,” she tells Bucky over the phone the night before he says goodbye to Steve at the airport.  “There’s already snow on the ground.  I bet Clint’s snowshoes would fit you.”

“I don’t have special boots,” Bucky says.

“You don’t need any,” Laura laughs.  “They just strap on.  Wear sneakers if you want.”  She pauses for a second. “I’ll pick you up at four?”

“Sure,” Bucky agrees, reluctantly glad he won’t be spending the week alone.

Over dinner, Lila and Cooper brief him on the plans for the following day.  Dawn-to-dusk winter sports are on the books.  Sledding, showshoeing, and, if he’s up to it, a snowball fight.  

“I bet your arm’s really strong.  Like a baseball pitcher,” Cooper comments.

Laura says his name in subtle admonishment, but Bucky doesn’t mind.  “I don’t know,” he says honestly.  “I haven’t really tested it out.”

It becomes clear overnight that the test will have to be rescheduled, though.  Bucky wakes at o’ dark-thirty with his stomach in his throat, and it’s by sheer force of will that he makes it into the bathroom before he vomits into the sink.  His elbow threatens to give out as he braces himself on the counter, sputtering and coughing.  

Bucky curses under his breath.  What’s he supposed to do with a basin full of sick, especially when his gut’s still churning and he only has one arm to work with?  Especially especially since it’s not even his house.  

He gags again, then bites the bullet and shuffles down the hall to the master bedroom.  

“Um.  Laura?”  Bucky croaks, leaning on the door frame as vertigo swirls around his ears.  

Luckily motherhood’s made her a light sleeper, and she meets him there, cupping his feverish cheeks.  “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t feel good.”  Bucky struggles to hold down a retch.

“Ok.  Alright.  Come’ere.”  Laura ushers him into the ensuite and helps him down in front of the toilet.  She sweeps Bucky’s hair out of his face and pats him on the back.  

“I’m…really sorry,” he chokes when he has the breath to spare.

“Shhh,” Laura soothes.  “Don’t start, ok?  I’d rather you be here than by yourself.”

Bucky can’t argue with her.  He’s glad for it, too.

 

He doesn’t intend to whip around and catch Laura with a backhand to the cheek.  It’s the cold washcloth on touching his neck that gets him, igniting an instinctual response before he has a chance to wrap his head around it.

“I’m sorry,” they say at the same time.  Bucky ducks back toward the toilet, curling his arm around his head as he prepares to heave up guilt and shame along with bile.

Laura shrinks into the wall.  Her next words come out muffled and scared, like now she’s the one with her hand over her mouth.  “Oh my god.  I completely forgot.”

“’S ok,” Bucky does his best to murmur, but his jaw trembles with residual terror and nausea.  “You don’t have to—”  He breaks off with a retch.

“I know,” Laura murmurs.  “I just… you’re already feeling so bad.  That was completely my fault.”  There’s a wet slap as she drops the cloth onto the counter.  It reminds Bucky of the mess he left in the other bathroom, and the knot in his stomach grows even tighter.

“What’s going to help you right now?  What can I do?”  Laura steps closer.  Bucky can feel her presence over his shoulder, but she doesn’t put a hand on him.  For that he’s grateful.

“I—I don’t—”  Bucky chokes.  He wants space, but he doesn’t.  He wants her to go, but also to stay.  He wants to go home, but doesn’t want to move.  Not ever again, for the rest of his life.

“I threw up in the sink,” he groans.

“What?”  It’s obviously not what Laura’s expecting to hear.

“In the other bathroom,” Bucky clarifies before his voice goes out and his jaw wrenches open.  A pitiful stream of spittle and mucous comes up, but it burns horrifically and leaves him sputtering.

“That’s ok, sweetheart.  I figured you did somewhere.”  Laura almost laughs.  “Sinks are easier to clean then pillows and sheets.”

“Hm.”  A sick belch tears out of Bucky’s throat, which hurts and tastes foul.  “S-sorry.”  It’s not any more comfortable if he pretends to be concerned with respectfulness, but he can pretend like it makes a difference.

“James, listen, ok?”  Laura drops to her knees, her face inches from his ear.  “Doesn’t matter.  I’ve got kids.  I’ve got Clint, who’s probably the biggest mess of all of them.  You’re family.  You and Steve both.  So stop worrying about impressing me.”  She does laugh this time.  “’Cause that ship’s already sailed.”

Bucky dry heaves.  “Still sorry… I woke you up,” he pants.

“Alright.”  Laura’s warm fingertips brush the edge of his sleeve.  “I accept your apology.”

Bucky rides another empty retch-turned-burp.  He leaves his mouth open, ropes of saliva hanging from his lips, but Laura speaks again before he gets the chance.

“There’s nothing left.  You’re done.”  She hooks him by the collar of his T-shirt and pulls him toward the bedroom.

Bucky’s in danger of falling over if he doesn’t comply, so he rises unsteadily to his feet.  He doesn’t complain when Laura’s arm appears around his chest.  Her touch is comforting again.

“Here.”  She guides him toward her bed, fluffing the pillows and turning down the comforter on what’s obviously Clint’s side.

“No,” Bucky mutters, though it’s still a challenge to get the words out.  “I can’t…in with you…”

“Who said I’m getting back in, huh?”  Laura offers a sympathetic smile.  She takes Bucky by both shoulders and gently pushes him down on the edge of the mattress.  “Just sit for a minute.  You’re closer to the bathroom in here.”

Bucky sighs.  She’s right.  He won’t bring anything up if he gags again, but the proximity of the ensuite is still a benefit.  It’s not worth the energy to argue.

Laura pulls a small trash can from under the nightstand and settles it beside the bed.  “Just in case,” she says.

Bucky looks at the few lone tissues at the bottom of the bin.  “Hm.”  Opening his mouth any further will only up the chance that he actually needs it.

“Ok.”  Laura drags the covers over Bucky’s legs and gives his shoulder a reassuring pat.  “I’m gonna survey the damage in the guest bathroom, then make you some ginger tea.  I’ll just be a couple minutes, but yell if you need me, alright?”

Bucky blinks at her, torn between apologizing again and giving an affirmative.  His jaw feels heavy and numb, though, and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to close it if he tries to speak.  He presses his lips together and nods.

“Ok.  Good.”  

Bucky manages to relax as Laura leaves the room.  He leans against the pillows and breathes out slowly.  The tension he still holds in his taut muscles only serves magnify his feverish aches.  He tips his head back against the headboard and closes his eyes, not sleeping exactly, but willing himself into a state of calm.  

He misses Steve.  Sure, illness has a way of throwing off emotions that makes vulnerability somehow permissible, but Bucky can’t help but feel weak.  They’ve only been apart one day, and now he’s sick and needy, reduced to a shivering mess in Clint and Laura’s bed.  He’s overstepped his bounds, even if it’s by no choice of his own.  He wouldn’t have that added layer of discomfort if he was at home with Steve.  Clint and Laura are family, but Steve’s his partner.  The intimacy washes out any awkwardness before it can take shape.  Plus, they’re used to the rhythm of sickness and caretaking, even if it’s been a long time since it was the norm.  

Steve never seemed so weak when he was the frail one, though.  He always put on a brave face and soldiered on.  Bucky grits his teeth, and his head gives a nauseating throb.  Even his body’s out to sabotage him now.

“Mom?”  a small voice asks from the doorway.

Bucky’s eyes snap open.  He sits up and gets a glimpse of Cooper’s outline illuminated in the dim light from the hall before he’s hastily swallowing down bile.  It’s no use; he leans over the edge of the mattress and lets tremors wrack his shoulders as he heaves over the trash can.  A dribble of something sour comes up, then he wipes his mouth on the back of his hand.

“Uncle Bucky?”  Cooper takes a few steps toward the bed.  He looks as confused as Bucky feels.  

Bucky’s brain isn’t firing on all synapses, but panic floods him.  The kid’s, what, ten years old?  In that awkward stage of not-quite-childhood and not-quite-adolescence where it’s impossible to guess what his parents have told him, what movies he’s allowed to watch, what he’s learned in school…  Bucky knows the kid’s not stupid; it’s the 21st century, and he and Steve aren’t exactly in the closet.  But what does it look like to see your dad’s friend’s boyfriend sleeping in your mom’s bed?

“Uh,” Bucky tries, but he winds up coughing and willing himself not to vomit again.

“Are you sick?”  Cooper’s definitely not stupid.  And he’s better at taking in the obvious than Bucky is, at least at the moment.

“Mm.  Yeah,” Bucky chokes.  “Are you, uh… are you ok?”

“Yeah, I was just looking for my mom…”  Cooper trails off.  But something’s wrong.  The kid’s trying too hard, his voice too offhand.  A second of silence passes, and he sniffles, breaking the facade.  

Bucky’s heart sinks down to his still-unsettled stomach.  He didn’t get the whole house sick, did he?  “Are you feeling bad too?” he asks.

“No,” Cooper says quickly.  “No, it’s nothing, I just…”  He swipes at his eyes with the sleeve of his pajamas.  “Bad dream.  But I’m over it.  I’m fine…”

“Oh.”  Bucky knows a thing or two about those, the way they make a person doubt his own mind, and the way they never really fade, no matter how much soothing and distraction are applied.  “D’you wanna come sit?”

“Would that be ok?”  Cooper asks through a sob.  “I mean, since you’re not feeling good?”

Bucky weighs the options.  The rest of the household’s probably already exposed to whatever he has.  And even if he exposes the kid to this bug, Laura won’t kill him for it.  She’s too good that way.

“Yeah.  Sure.”  Bucky pats the mattress beside him.  

Cooper climbs up and sits with his knees up to his chest.

“D’you wanna tell me about it?” Bucky offers, trying to mirror what Steve normally does for him.

The kid shakes his head.  “But…can I tell you something else?”

“Yeah.”  Bucky’s less nauseated with something else to focus on.  He feels like he should be singing Cooper’s praises.

The story’s convoluted, and Bucky doesn’t exactly follow.  At first it seems to be about sports, then he realizes it takes place in a video game.  But regardless, the mind of a fifth grader seems like a pleasant place to be.  Bucky finds himself wondering what terrified the kid so much when he lives in a world so full of love and calm and computer-generated baseball.  But then he reminds himself again that Cooper’s not stupid.  He knows about war and death.  His dad’s gone a lot.  Safety is fragile, and when it comes down to it, that’s what drives them all.  

“Cooper?  What’re you doing?”  Laura’s back, rushing in to usher her son away.

“No, it’s fine,” Bucky says.  “He was telling me about…”  He swallows a hiccup and shakes his head.  “You’ll have to tell me again, because I already forgot.”

Cooper laughs.  Laura shakes her head.  “So much for a calm night all around,” she sighs.  She hands Bucky a mug of steaming tea.  “Sip that slowly.  You’re probably all dehydrated.”

“Is that hot chocolate?” Cooper asks, interested.

“No.”  Laura smooths his hair.  “It’s herbal tea, for his stomach.”

Cooper tips his head back to look up at her.

“But you want hot chocolate,” Laura interprets.  “Alright, fine.  Since it’s turning into a slumber party in here.”  She looks at Bucky.  “I’ll just be another minute.  If he annoys you, send him out to the kitchen.”

“I’m not annoying,” Cooper pipes.

Laura gives a  _see what I mean_  look.

“He’s not,” Bucky affirms.  “Really, I feel better with the distraction.”

“Alright.  I know defeat when I see it.”  Laura puts up her hands and retreats back toward the door.  

“Hey,” Cooper says quietly.  “Sorry I came in and bothered you.”

“You didn’t.”  Bucky takes a sip of his tea.  “Sorry I messed up your night.  And your plans for tomorrow.”

Cooper shakes his head.  “You didn’t,” he echoes.  “It’s ok.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says slowly.  “I guess it is.”


End file.
